T'Mir
by JennaTripped
Summary: Pure fluffy TT babyfic goodness.
1. Lullabies

Title: Lullabies

Author: JennaTripped

Rating: G

Pairing: T/T

Summary: Pure fluff, and don't ask for a sequel. :-P

A/N: This is by far the cheesiest fic I've ever written. But hopefully it will counter some of the god-awful angst of reality. If you hate it, don't tell me. I'm fragile like that. :-P

* * *

T'Pol paced around the room, her movements measured, precise, and the path well-worn. She closed her eyes and hugged the crying infant in her arms to her chest. T'Pol had learned within days of her daughter's birth that the baby would not be calmed through usual Vulcan methods; which, she freely admitted, were supremely logical but not very practical. T'Mir craved physical reassurance. She wished to be hugged. And yet, every night T'Pol still tried the Vulcan ways first.

As soon as T'Mir was settled against her chest and her cries had been downgraded to quiet whimpers, T'Pol allowed herself a relieved sigh and sat down in the rocking chair Trip and Commander Reed had constructed. T'Pol did not like the contraption. She trusted Trip that it was stable, but the motion of the chair was unpleasant to her. Of course, this meant her daughter loved it. In fact, she would not sleep until she had been adequately rocked. T'Pol tolerated it, because it pained her to see her child so distressed. She pushed against the ground with her feet to move the chair, and snuggled T'Mir closer.

She began to sing softly, in Vulcan, and did not stop when she heard her husband's footsteps approaching the door.

Trip heard T'Pol's voice drifting musically from his daughter's room when he opened the door. He grinned, tossed his jacket over the back of the couch, and climbed the stairs. He paused at the door and watched T'Pol snuggling the tiny baby in her arms. T'Mir's little fist was stuck halfway in her mouth and she was sucking it loudly.

Trip listened to the words of T'Pol's lullaby and nearly laughed. At the sound, T'Pol stopped singing and looked up at him, disapproval etched across her features. He made himself stop smiling, but humor still danced behind his eyes.

She stood and walked over to him and let him enfold both her and T'Mir into an embrace.

"Is something amusing?"

He laughed. "You're singing our daughter a lullaby about scary emotions?"

"No. It is a lullaby about the dangers of the loss of emotional control. I assure, you it will not frighten her."

"Well, I know... she doesn't exactly understand words yet, T'Pol." He enjoyed another moment of fun at her expression and then relented. "I think it's sweet."

"She enjoys the sound of your voice more..."

Trip smiled gently and lifted his sleeping daughter out of T'Pol's arms and settled her into her crib. He placed a soft kiss on her downy head before turning back to T'Pol and hugging her close.

"She likes your smell more..." He nuzzled her ear.

"She prefers that you bathe her..." Her fingers played with the hair at the back of his head.

"She always wants you to feed her..." Trip laced his fingers through hers and kissed her hand.

"She calms more easily with you..." T'Pol looked up at him.

"T'Pol, she laughs for you..." Trip leaned down and kissed her warmly.

"Trip, she loves you."

"I know. I love you too."

* * *

The End 


	2. Sticks in a Blender

Title: Sticks in a Blender (aka Creature of the Desert)

Author: JennaTripped

Rating: G

Disclaimer: Enterprise belongs to Paramount… yada yada yada.

Summary: Another T'Mir ficlet.

* * *

Trip jammed another vegetable into the processor with a frustrated grunt. The damn thing was broken again! He'd just fixed it last week. At this rate it would cost them less to just buy a brand new one. With a sigh, he shut down the appliance's power supply and took it apart. The vegetables really weren't that tough; they shouldn't be jamming it like this.

He slipped his fingers delicately between the sharp blades, feeling for obstructions. When they landed on something promising, he gently extricated the material expecting to find a bit of carrot or ice from the juice he'd been making. Instead, he found a stick.

"T'Mir! Come in here please!"

Trip leaned against the counter, palms down, and tried to button down his irritation before his daughter made it into the kitchen. She was only five, she was only five, she was only five…

He heard the sound of silk sliding across the hardwood floors and turned around.

"Yes, Daddy?"

Trip couldn't help it; he had to laugh. T'Mir stood before him in her robes, which T'Pol had insisted she get used to wearing. The hood was up, and dropped down comically over her eyes. T'Mir tried to clear her vision, but the sleeves were so long her hands couldn't reach out to grab the garment.

Trip knelt down in front of her and pulled her hood back, revealing a petite little girl with dark brown hair, blue eyes, and distinctly pointed ears. He began to roll up the sleeves of her robe. T'Mir stood patiently, entirely still.

"Mira, did you put sticks in the food processor again after Mommy and I asked you not to?"

"Yes, Daddy."

"Why did you do that T'Mir?

Trip finished rolling her sleeves and held her by the waist. She regarded him quietly before leaning in close to his ear.

"It was hungry…"

Trip looked at her, honestly puzzled.

"What was hungry, Mira?"

"The creature in the yard. Isach found him a long time ago and I think he is hungry."

Trip frowned. Isach was T'Mir's sehlat. If there was another animal in the yard it was more likely to eat it than bring it to his tiny daughter.

"What kind of creature?"

T'Mir shrugged her shoulders, shaking out the folds in her robes.

"I do not know. I tried to look up the species in Mother's book of animals, but I could not find it!"

"I still don't understand why you'd put sticks in the food processor."

"He is a vegetarian, Daddy. Like me and Mother. I think he's a baby."

Trip laughed and tweaked T'Mir's nose.

"And you saw me and Mommy put food in the processor for Lorian?"

"It was logical that I do the same for my new pet, Daddy. He is a baby, like Lorian is a baby. His food must be prepared."

T'Mir gave him one of her practiced long-suffering looks and raised both her eyebrows. This only made Trip laugh harder, and he swung his tiny daughter up into his arms and walked outside into the yard.

"Okay, T'Mir. Show me your new pet." T'Mir pointed to a corner of the yard where Isach lazily rolled in the sand. Trip walked over, T'Mir still secure in his arms. He set her down and let her call the giant bear-like animal away from that area of the yard.

"Come here Isach! I will give you a treat if you come with me."

Trip resisted the almost overwhelming urge to snatch his baby girl up again when the huge carnivore lumbered over to her and slid to a stop inches from T'Mir's nose. She smiled and offered him a bit of meat from a trunk next to the house.

Trip looked into the corner and saw nothing.

"T'Mir, I don't see an animal back here."

"That is because he is very small." T'Mir scampered over to Trip's side and lifted the edge of a large rock. "See?"

Trip peered beneath the rock. "Oooh, T'Mir, look at that!"

T'Mir, interested by the awe in her daddy's voice, leaned closer and whispered to Trip. "What is he, Daddy?"

"He's called a sand piper, Mira. There aren't very many of these little guys around."

"Is he a baby? He's very small."

"No, that's about as big as they get."

T'Mir looked at Trip expectantly. "Shall I feed him twigs?"

"Yep, you were right. He only eats leaves an' veggies." Trip edged forward and lifted the little animal onto his hand. It was about the size and of an Earth gecko but was more snake-like in the way it moved. "Go gather some sticks from the yard."

T'Mir rushed off to do what her daddy said. "Here, I have them."

"Okay, go ahead and put one right in front there."

Trip paused and T'Mir gingerly laid a small green twig across his fingers. The little creature immediately grabbed it and began breaking it up into more manageable pieces. Trip watched the look of wonder on his daughter's face and smiled.

"May I keep him?"

"No, Mira… he's a wild animal, not a pet. Why don't we leave him some twigs and roots and leave him alone now."

"Okay."

Trip took his daughter's hand and led her back into the house.

"So, no more twigs in the food processor, okay Kiddo?

"I promise, Daddy."

* * *


	3. Great Expectations

Title: Great Expectations

Title: Great Expectations

Author: JennaTripped

Rating: PG

Pairing: T/T

Summary: Someone asked, long ago, for a look at T'Mir in primary school. This came out a little more angsty than I'd planned, but there it is.

* * *

The snickers from behind her should have been enough warning but as usual, T'Mir had expected her peers to control themselves better than they were able. Daddy said she had "great expectations" and probably wouldn't see them realized until she was older. It seemed that T'Mir was constantly waiting until she was older, and she was just never old enough.

She laid down her supplemental datapadd and straightened her shoulders.

"Whassa matter, T'Mir?" T'Mir felt something collide with the back of her robes. "Eh, freak, something buggin' you?"

T'Mir allowed a sigh to escape her lips and focused her attention back on her studies, only to realize she'd read several chapters ahead. Absently, she tapped on her datapadd.

_Name: Francis Elright_

_Species: Human_

_Gender: Male_

_Age: Eight years, four months, Earth calendar._

_Comments: Jerkface._

If T'Mir had been Human she would have smiled. Of course, if she'd been Human she would have given in to the sneaky, angry, voice in her head telling her to throw the datapadd at Francis hard enough to hurt him. She could do it, too. Hurt him, that is. She took another breath and let it out in a puff, some of her tension escaping with it.

"T'Mir?"

T'Mir looked up and met the eyes of T'Vin, her primary school instructor. The woman was quite tall, but willowy and graceful, and her eyes were a soft chocolate brown at odds with the otherwise sharp features of her face. T'Vin's gaze was steady and soothing. The Vulcan always seemed to know when something was about to go horribly wrong in her classroom, always seemed to know when one of her young students had been pushed too far. T'Vin reminded Mira of her Mother. Suddenly the room felt stuffy and warm, and Mira knew she was going to cry.

T'Vin cast her gaze away from T'Mir, allowing the child to regain control, and it settled on the young Human boy in the seat behind her.

"Mr. Elright, perhaps you would care to demonstrate your mastery of our current topic." It was not a request, but a directive. The boy slowly got to his feet and walked to the front of the classroom. T'Vin looked back at the girl, who by now had straightened in her seat and was looking attentively forward, and nodded her approval.

* * *

T'Pol opened the door to her home with one hand, the other quite full of sleeping toddler, and entered. She eased Lorian into an armchair in the common room, his head lolling gently against the soft cushion, before patiently working out the stiffness in the arm that had held him. The boy had a habit of falling asleep in the most unusual places amid smells and sounds that would have roused even his father. T'Mir had certainly never been so oblivious. T'Pol well remembered how sensitive her daughter was to even the slightest disruptions and supposed she should be grateful her small son "slept like the dead," as Trip was fond of commenting.

A beep from the communications unit alerted T'Pol to an incoming message. She sat down and accepted the call from her daughter's teacher.

"Instructor T'Vin."

"T'Pol."

T'Pol had no official designation as head of research at the Science Academy. She was not military anymore, nor had she ever pursued civilian degrees. It was an unusual situation but one that served her well when she was working on more sensitive projects.

"T'Mir is well?"

"Yes. The children are having their midday meal now. It seemed to be an opportune time to contact you regarding her conduct in class." T'Pol remained silent, allowing the older woman to continue. "As you are aware, T'Mir is frequently the target of harassment by the other children."

"She has reported being bullied, yes. We have spoken at length about strategies to deal with the problem."

"I understand you have begun meditating with her?"

"Yes. After the last incident my husband and I agreed that she needed to begin formal study of certain disciplines."

T'Pol allowed herself to dwell on that distinctly unpleasant conversation for a moment. Trip had been more disturbed by his little Mira's sudden outburst than T'Pol had anticipated. She had found him, later that night, sitting in T'Mir's room watching her sleep.

"_She's so tiny," he whispered, "how could she do something like that?"_

"_She did not intend to harm the girl, Husband. It was unintentional."_

"_She fractured her scull, T'Pol. She's seven years old!"_

"_Yes. And the other child was being highly antagonistic." A flare of anger skipped across their bond, outrage that their child had been pushed to such extremes. "She does not know her own strength, Trip. We must teach her."_

"I believe that has already begun to help her and can only continue to do so. T'Mir is in a difficult situation, T'Pol. She fits in with neither Human nor Vulcan children in her peer group."

T'Pol inclined her head, her attention back on the situation at hand. T'Mir's difficulty socializing with children of either species was a constant source of anguish for her parents. Especially Trip, who wished for his daughter to form close friendships like the ones he had enjoyed as a child.

"We have noticed." A trace of frustration, there. She would need to meditate more tonight. Perhaps T'Mir would join her.

"I believe she is improving, T'Pol. She very nearly lost control in class today but was able to calm herself."

"I will be sure to express your approval this evening. Please update me as warranted," she added unnecessarily.

"I will do so. T'Vin out."

T'Pol flicked off the comm. She remembered the look on Trip's face that night one year ago, but the image was supplanted by one of him swinging his giggling daughter in the yard.

_If it wasn't hard, what fun would it be?_

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